


Taking Tea

by BuddhistBabe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Absolutely No Ginny Bashing, Bottom Harry, Bottom Harry Potter, Bottom!Harry, Drinking, Friendship, Ginny Weasley & Neville Longbottom friendship, Herbology, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, M/M, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, No Ginny Bashing, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Podfic Welcome, Power Bottom Harry, Professor Neville Longbottom, Size Kink, The Golden Trio, Top Neville, Top Neville Longbottom, harry potter is a size queen, herbology is surprisingly sexy, ron weasley & harry potter friendship, top!Neville
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:45:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1550963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddhistBabe/pseuds/BuddhistBabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've always adored Harry's relationship with Ron and Hermione, and always found their conversations to be the best way to move any story along. I wanted to write something that was all about Harry explaining things to his friends. Talking it out with them, the way he did during school whenever some big event happened where they weren't present. What better way to do that, than over tea.<br/>---<br/>“Explain to us how it turned out that the two of you…” Hermione pursed her lips like she wasn’t sure, but carried on anyways, “How it was that you ended up…”</p><p>“Taking it up the bum.” Ron finished for her, and Hermione hit him on the arm again, “What?!”</p><p>Harry sighed and tucked the pillow under his head, turning on his side to face his friends where they sat on the edge of their seats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bottomed Out

**Author's Note:**

> Since my hunt for Neville/Harry in general (and top!Neville in particular) have largely been unfruitful, I have diligently channeled all of my daydreams and musings into this little beauty. I won’t lie to you, I’m kind of proud of it. There’s a second chapter in the works, but this is what I have for you so far.

“I’m gay.” 

Harry was glad to see that the expressions on his two best friend’s faces had not become disgusted or irate. He had been almost positive that Ron was going to be grossed out and start making wild accusations about any time they had ever changed in front of one another, but if anything, Ron just looked mildly amused.

“Is that why you and Ginny broke up?” the ginger asked.

“Well, obviously!” Hermione answered for him.

The three of them were in the main sitting room at Black Manor. Harry was sitting on the sofa facing the two wingback chairs that contained his friends. He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at his feet, rubbing his hair roughly and sighing.

“Listen, Harry.” Hermione said sympathetically, “We don’t care if you’re gay. You’re still our friend, and you always will be.”

“Yeah, mate” Ron nodded, “It doesn’t matter if you...”

“I slept with Neville” 

If Harry had not been quite so distressed, he may have been able to appreciate the flabbergasted looks on Ron and Hermione’s faces. They looked at each other, looked at Harry, then looked at each other again. Ron scooted forward a little in his seat so that his whole posture was pointed at Harry. 

“W-wait,” Ron held his hands up as if begging the world to stop and give him a second, “You what?!”

“I slept with Neville!” This time Harry said it louder and with much more panic in his voice. He grabbed one of the throw pillows on the sofa and clutched it to himself, glancing back and forth between his friends with eyes wide.

“Oh! Then you... When did this happen?!” Hermione squeaked. 

“Neville’s gay too?” Ron whispered.

“Night before last....” Harry said slowly, with a grimace.

“Wow.” Ron glanced over at Hermione.

“And now I don’t know what to do because he’s my friend, but now we’ve had sex, and I’m gay and it was really great, but I don’t want to stop being friends with him, but I’m pretty sure that if I see him again we’ll have sex again and I don’t know what to do!” Harry whined, flopping down on his side and covering his face completely with the pillow. he could feel his face burning with a level of embarrassment he could not remember ever feeling before.

“Alright, start from the beginning.” Hermione, always the pragmatist, said with an air of authority.

Ron nodded, and they both turned their complete attention to him. Harry rolled over onto his back and sighed, lowering the pillow away from his face, but still held it to his chest like a teddy bear.

“Well, after you left last night...” Harry began.

\---

A day or two after Harry’s friends had found out he and Ginny had broken up, they had all shown up at his door with alcohol in all its varieties. Ron and Hermione had brought beer, Seamus had shown up with whisky, Neville had wine, and Luna had something green she said would make him forget his sorrows. Dean had not shown up, and though no one said anything, Harry knew it was because he was doing a different kind of comforting with Ginny. 

It was not a festive occasion. Aside from the drinking, there was very little going on. It seemed to Harry that everyone had expected him to talk trash about Ginny all night, but he genuinely had had nothing to say. No one seemed to believe him when he said the breakup was mutual, especially since they all knew that Ginny was already seeing someone else. Steadily, his friends began to trickle out. Hermione had work in the morning, so took to bed early, apparating away with the quietest pop. Seamus had “much more fun things to do, no offense mate”. Luna said something vague about her new project becoming restless if left tied up for too long, and then left via flue. 

Ron and Neville, however, stayed by his side, drinking well into the night and saying all the same things they had been saying all night, with progressively more slurred voices.

“You’ll find someone else.” “Don’t take it too hard.” “There are other fish in the sea.” “It just wasn’t meant to be.” 

Harry was getting rather sick of it. He just wished they would both go home so he could masterbate and go to sleep.Some of his impatience must have gotten through, because eventually Ron stood and made his excuses.

“I’m kind of disappointed.” Ron said as Harry walked him out. “I had this idea that we would be brothers. Legally, you know? Once you and Ginny got married.”

Harry nodded. 

“I’m sorry, Ron.”

“No-no-no.” Ron had reprimanded in true form, “You’re still my brother. My kids are still going to call you ‘Uncle Harry’, alright?”

Harry smiled and gave Ron a bear hug. Ron mussed Harry’s hair affectionately and stumbled down the stairs to call the Knight Bus. Harry closed the door behind him and thought ‘Four down, one to go.’ 

Back in the sitting room, Harry was annoyed to find that Neville had opened a brand new beer and the way he was nursing it, would take some time to finish. The silence was palpable as he sat down on the sofa next to his childhood friend, and it was clear that Neville didn’t know what to say and Harry didn’t feel like saying anything.

“You’ll find someone better than Ginny. Real...really soon, alright?” Neville said awkwardly.

“Yeah, thanks Neville.” Harry said politely.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Neville said, giving it another go as it were.

“Thanks.” Harry said again, less politely.

“No, I mean it!” Neville insisted, “If I were Ginny right now, I’d be bawling my eyes out!”

Harry chuckled, and Neville seemed to realize that he’d found an in, because he carried on.

“I would! I really would! Mascara running down my face! Snot everywhere! The works!” Neville gestured at his eyes and nose theatrically.

Harry laughed outright at the image brought to mind: Neville in full make-up, crying like some soap opera heroine. Neville smiled and blushed, pleased with his success.

“I doubt she’s very broken up.” Harry told him sincerely.

“Then she’s crazy.”

“No, you don’t...” Harry sighed and rubbed his hair until it was even messier than usually, “You don’t understand.”

“Then explain it to me.” Neville grabbed the last beer out of the case Ron and Hermione had brought and handed it to Harry.

Harry looked at it for a moment, then resigned himself to his fate and took it. He opened the bottle and took a heavy swig before he began talking.

“I couldn’t really say this in front of Ron, but...” he sighed, “The bedroom side of things had kind of fallen off lately...pretty much...completely.”

Neville nodded, but said nothing, so Harry continued.

“We hadn’t been sleeping in the same bed for a week, and we hadn’t had sex in a month or two.” it suddenly seemed to really dawn on Harry, “yeah, actually, it’s been two months.”

“How could she not want to have sex with you?” Neville seemed completely bewildered.

“It wasn’t her fault.” Harry insisted, “You know, it started with her complaining that it was always the same...I guess I never really mixed it up, or whatever. And then when we started trying new things I...I couldn’t always...manage to...” 

Harry stared at his feet so he wouldn’t have to see Neville’s reaction to his impotence.

“So she would want to and I wouldn’t be able to. And it made her feel unattractive, you know, and hurt her feelings, so it would cause a fight, and then she would cut me off completely for a while.” Harry grimaced and glared, ashamed and angry with himself, “And when I figured that out, I started picking the fights so I wouldn’t have to try and...not be able to...”

“What’s wrong with me, Neville?” He tried to laugh, but for the first time since he and Ginny broke up, he felt like crying. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubbed until the tears were no longer imminent. Harry took three large gulps from the bottle, and finally turned to look Neville in the face. 

“Absolutely nothing, Harry.” Neville took a long drink from his beer, and bit his bottom lip, “You’re...perfect.”

“Please.” Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t need the hero worship right now.

“No. No! You bloody are!” Neville insisted, sounding almost a little angry. “You’re  
fucking perfect!”

“No...” Harry began, but was interrupted.

“Yes. You. Are.” Neville said in a confident voice Harry rarely heard him use, “You’re smart and funny. You’re brave and heroic. And between the hair and the eyes...You’re bloody gorgeous!” 

Harry’s eyebrows flew up at the last comment, and he cracked a grin.

“You’re proper smashed, mate.” He informed him.

“So? So what? ‘Tis still true.” Neville mumbled, “I just...I can’t believe...how someone as great as you could think there’s something wrong with you. ‘Specially when I’m sitting here, the perfect comparison to prove the point.”

“Neville,” Harry smiled, much more comfortable with promoting Neville’s self confidence than his own, “You’re every bit as much all those things as I am.You’re...totally brave. And plenty handsome, allright?”

“Then you!” Neville said a little too loudly, pointing his bottle at Harry for emphasis, “Then you well underestimate how attractive you are.” He was quiet for a moment and then “and you well overestimate how brave I am.”

“How can you say that? You’re one of the bravest people I know, Neville.”

“I am not brave.”

“Of course you are! You slayed Nagini, and faced down Voldemort and-”

“No, because if I were brave...I wouldn’t...I would.” Neville stood up, kicked the couch, spun in a circle, and sat back down. He sighed, rubbing his face and looking miserable.

Harry watched this display, amused and confused.

“Neville, I promise you, you are brave.”

“NO, I’M NOT!” Neville hollered. “I’m sorry. I’m drunk. I just can’t stand that you think badly about yourself. I think the world of you. And I don’t just mean because of you being ‘Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived’. I’ve known you long enough to know you without all the extra, and you’re still wonderful. Beautiful, even. You’re absolutely the most beautiful person I know and I’ve..fancied you for ages.”

Harry bit his lip and looked around at a loss as to what to say. The voice in his head was telling him to let Neville down easy, to do his best not to hurt one of his closest friends and ruin a friendship he’d built over almost their entire lives. But he couldn’t even make words, let along the right ones. 

“I’m not brave, because if I was,” Neville took a deep breath and turned so that he was fully facing Harry, “If i were brave, I would do what I’ve been wanting to do all night and...kiss you.”

“Then do it.” Harry didn’t remember planning on saying it, but it came out sounding completely confident.

Neville didn’t have to be told twice. Without hesitation, he grabbed Harry’s face and planted one on him.

It wasn’t what could be called a good kiss, and it didn’t last long. Neville basically smashed their lips together and then pulled back almost immediately. He didn’t let go of Harry’s face though, and they were close enough that when Neville whispered “sorry” Harry could feel the breath on his face. 

“Don’t be.” Harry whispered back, eyes darting between Neville’s eyes and lips. “You were very brave.”

Neville seemed to realize that he wasn’t being rejected, because he leaned back in tentatively and placed another kiss on Harry’s lips, gentler this time, but just as brief. When Harry still didn’t pull back, Neville went back in and placed several more light, quick, tender kisses on his lips in quick succession. Harry heard himself make a pleased noise without his conscious consent, and he tilted his head so the next kiss was a deeper one. 

It wasn’t sudden, but Harry still was surprised when he realized that they were having a proper snog. Neville’s tongue was in his mouth and it tasted like beer. His lips weren’t as soft as Ginny’s, but he was tender and he seemed to enjoy sucking on Harry’s lower lip which was driving the bespectacled man crazy. Harry began to lean back, and when Neville didn’t immediately follow, Harry grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down with him. 

Now Neville was laying atop Harry on the small sofa, their bodies as close as they could be with their clothes still on. Laying like this, Harry was made aware of how turned on Neville really was. Neville’s erection was pressed against his thigh, and every time Harry shifted even a little, Neville would let out a little gasp of air into Harry’s mouth and adjust his hips. It was like he was struggling to either pull away or press in closer, Harry couldn’t tell. He bent his knee up, between Neville’s legs, and arched his back. The noise Neville made, combined with the sensation of their groins being so nearly touching, sent electricity shooting up Harry’s spine. He repeated the experiment, and found that the sensation did not dissipate. On the contrary, it got better with every thrust. And when Neville reciprocated, rutting against him so that their groins pressed together firmly, it quadrupled the pleasure, making Harry moan. 

Neville pulled his mouth away from Harry’s, and reattached it at his neck. Harry cried out and flailed, despite his most desperate efforts not to do so. Neville pushed Harry’s shirt up, and ran his fingers along his belly and down his sides. He ran his thumb just under the waistband of Harry’s jeans, tantalizingly close to the leaking tip of his cock without actually touching it. Harry was so achingly hard, and everything Neville did only seemed to make it worse. Or better. Both, really. 

Neville moved his mouth again, this time to Harry’s chest, bunching up Harry’s shirt under his armpits. It meant that he had to kind of pull his hips away to get the angle right, causing Harry to buck up and meet nothing but air, but the sensations Neville was able to create with his mouth made it seem like a fair enough trade. Neville was kissing and biting and sucking all over his chest and abdomen. All of Harry’s bucking and flailing must have been problemsome, because Neville had a grip on Harry’s hips and was pressing him into the sofa as hard as he could while he continued to lavish kisses on all the bare skin he could find.

“Neville!” Harry shouted, as the man bit down on his nipple.

Hearing his name seemed to snap Neville out of whatever hormone induced trance he had been in. He lifted his head and peered down at Harry’s flushed face, both of them still breathing heavily.

“Maybe we shouldn’t...like this.” Neville panted.

\---

“And he probably meant the potential drunken gay sex with a childhood friend only days after breaking up with my girlfriend of three years, but I thought he meant the couch so what I said was ‘My bedroom’s upstairs’!” Harry covered his face with his hands, burning red with embarrassment.

“HA!” Ron let out a single burst of laughter, and Hermione elbowed him in the side. 

“Go on, Harry.” Hermione prompted.

“I just...I don’t know if it was the booze or what, but when he kissed me it felt so good, and when he was inside me...”

“Woah, woah, woah, wait.” Ron held up a hand, “When he was inside you?”

Harry pulled the pillow back up to cover his face, and nodded from behind it. Ron and Hermione exchanged a look which spoke volumes.

“Alright, back up!” Ron declared.

“Explain to us how it turned out that the two of you...” Hermione pursed her lips like she wasn’t sure, but carried on anyways, “How it was that you ended up...”

“Taking it up the bum.” Ron finished for her, and Hermione hit him on the arm again, “What?!”

Harry sighed and tucked the pillow under his head, turning on his side to face his friends where they sat on the edge of their seats.

\---

“Maybe we shouldn’t...like this.” Neville panted.

“My bedroom’s upstairs.” Harry said.

Neville sat up and brought Harry with him, so that Harry was more or less straddling him, and kissed him long and slow. As soon as their lips parted, Harry clambered off him and took his hand, leading him to the bedroom like something out of a cheesy romance novel. The stairs were a bit dodgy to navigate; they were both drunk, horny, and were both trying to get the other one’s shirt off. At the top of the stairs, they finally fell over. They stayed where they landed for a little bit, snogging like teenagers, until the hard floor could no longer be ignored. Neville helped Harry up and they kissed all the way to the bedroom (Harry walking backwards), only running into one side table on the way there.

Once in his bedroom, Harry was of a mind to race to the bed, but Neville hesitated at the door. Harry sat on the corner of the bed and bit his lip, searching Neville’s face and hoping that he hadn’t frightened him off by being too enthusiastic. 

“Er...how brave do you want me to be...exactly?” Neville asked. His voice was different, Harry noticed. It was still Neville’s voice, but lower, more sensual. There was an unmistakable gravely sound to it caused by arousal.

“Very brave.” Harry said, hearing a similar gravel in his own voice. 

“Really brave?” Neville asked, coming into the room and shutting the door behind him. He took off his shirt, which Harry had not managed to do while climbing the stairs.

“Braver.” Harry licked his lips and surveyed Neville’s naked torso. He was not skinny like Harry, but he was nowhere near the pudgy boy he had been before puberty. He didn’t have much in the way of muscle definition, but what was there made an impression. His arms were what really struck Harry. Harry had been in auror training for a year now and his arms still looked like twigs, but Neville’s had meat on them, the kind that bulged when he flexed. It was incredibly attractive.

“How brave?” Neville asked again, walking towards Harry in a way that, had it been anyone other than Neville Longbottom, might have been referred to as a prowl.

“Incredibly brave.” Harry whispered. 

Neville came to a halt in front of him, put those arms on either side of Harry on the bed so that they were both half on and half off the mattress. Their faces were close together and Harry felt off balance, so he scooted back so that he was laying on the bed outright. Neville followed, crawling on all fours to loom over the other man, and Harry spread his legs so that Neville could fit between them.

“You really think I’m that brave?” Neville’s posture was aggressive, dominating, but his voice was still nervy and worrisome.

“So, so brave.” Harry assured him, reaching up and running his fingers through Neville’s soft, brown hair. It seemed softer than it should have been, and he loved that it was short and straight enough that he could put his fingers through it without them becoming tangled.

Neville kissed him, hard and long, with lots of tongue and more of that lip sucking thing that Harry liked so much. Harry’s glasses cut into his face, so he took them off and placed them on the side table.

“I don’t know if I’m as brave as you think I am.” Neville whispered against his lips.

“Be as brave as you can be.” Harry pleaded, “Be brave, Neville. Please.”

At the ‘please’ Neville got a determined look on his face, and went for Harry’s fly without any further ceremony. He had Harry’s pants down to his knobby knees, and his lips around Harry’s cock in the span of about half a minute. Neville seemed to have no problem with Harry keeping a hold of his hair during this particular activity either. In fact, when Harry pulled on it, Neville moaned around his cock, which felt incredible.

Neville took his mouth off of Harry’s cock, wanked him off with his hand while he sucked on his balls. He seemed to take great pleasure in his work, lapping and sucking alternatively until the entire area was soaking wet and Harry was long gone. So long gone, in fact, that it didn’t register that Neville was spreading his legs further apart to gain access something a little more.

Neville didn’t dive right in. He only pressed the pad of his thumb to Harry’s arse opening, but Harry had never, ever been touched there before. By anyone. 

“Neville!” he cried out, grabbing his hair tightly, and bucking his hips. 

“You like that?” Neville paused his oral assault and asked The Phrase.

“I-I don’t know.” Harry bit his lip. There must have been fear in his eyes, but his erection did not soften, and after all, they were trying to be brave.

\---

“What’s The Phrase?” Hermione asked from where she was perched on the edge of the coffee table. Both she and Ron had moved in closer. Ron was sitting on the ottoman, which he had pulled up close to the sofa. 

Harry sat up to address the question, and both his friends leaned in expectantly.

“He kept saying it the whole time. I mean, he said other things too, obviously, but he kept saying...well, asking really...”

“What?!” Ron demanded impatiently.

“You like that?” Harry said it in a sexy voice that neither Hermione or Ron had heard him use before. It occurred to Hermione (though, not to Ron) that Harry was doing an impression of Neville when he said it.

“He kept saying it the whole time: You like that? And at first, it was a question,” Harry swallowed as his mouth went dry “But after a while, it stopped being a question...but I was still answering ‘Yes.’ And...and...he kept asking and I kept answering...”

Ron whistled. Hermione blushed and smiled. 

\---

“You like that?” Neville asked, his thumb pressed against the entrance to Harry’s arse.

“I-I don’t know.” Harry bit his lip. 

“I can stop...” Neville pulled his hand away slowly.

“No! Don’t!” Harry grabbed his shoulders, “I-I just...it feels so...”

“Good?” Neville smiled, and it was a kind smile, not a smug one. Harry appreciated that. 

Harry bit his lip and nodded, blushing furiously.

Neville leaned back down, and lifting Harry’s balls out of the way, kissed his taint in a tender way that Harry thought of almost as romantic, though in a thoroughly carnal way. This time Harry knew what was coming, but he still wasn’t prepared. Neville’s tongue on his hole was a sensation that felt overwhelmingly better than he expected. It was like the far extreme of blow job combined with the way he felt when Neville kissed his neck. He felt crazed and aroused, but mortified most of all.

“You like that?” Neville asked.

“Yes, but...its gross, isn’t it?” Harry whined.

“It doesn’t taste gross, like you might think.” Neville explained patiently, then he smiled shyly “But I...I won’t kiss you with this mouth.”

“I like kissing you.” Harry lamented.

Neville touched the side of Harry’s face, cupping his cheek and smiling a genuine, loving smile, that completely stole Harry’s heart in an instant.

“Roll over.” It was, Harry thought, the first time Neville had ever told him to do something outright like that, but that was not as much of a shock as that Harry complied without even a semblance of resistance. Neville pushed Harry’s legs up and apart, so that his arse was high and his head was low. 

He also wasn’t completely naked. Neville had taken off his pants, but the shirt hadn’t come off and neither of them felt like bothering with it. Something about still having some of his clothes on, made him feel even slutier. 

It was in that moment of absolute obedience in tandem with feeling the most exposed he had in his whole life, that Harry realized not only that he was gay, but that he was going to bottom to Neville before the end of the night. And just as that thought was passing through his mind, Neville stuck his tongue inside his asshole and Harry screamed wordlessly with pleasure.

Neville mouthed his hole, making him moan and scream for what felt like forever, before he slipped a lube-slicked finger in and began really working him open.

The way his finger moved inside him, seemed like Neville was searching for something. Harry couldn’t imagine what that could be, until Neville found it. It drew a sound out of Harry like a gurgle, and for a moment he thought he had cum, but he was still rock hard.

“You like that?” Neville asked tenderly. 

“Yes!” Harry squeaked.

\---

“The prostate” Hermione said simply.

“What?” Ron asked, with almost an inappropriate casualness.

“The place that Neville touched was the prostate.” Hermione explained, “It’s responsible for semen production.”

“It certainly is.” Harry confirmed with a dreamy look on his face.

\---

The prostate was a mysterious location in Harry’s body that Neville Longbottom had found, and he seemed to be able to operate it with a remarkable amount of proficiency. He worked it until Harry’s knees were too weak to support the bucking of his hips, and he slid to lie flat on his stomach. He buried his face in the pillow, completely mortified and more turned on than he had ever been before. 

“You like that?” Neville asked, as he pushed in the second finger.

“Yessss.” It was an understatement. 

Neville began to really work him open, now. He alternated pressed his fingertips against Harry’s prostate, and scissored them apart to widen the entrance. Harry was panting, and pushing back up against Neville’s hand.

“You like that?” 

“Yes-yes-yes!” Harry was past the point of being self conscious in any way. He only knew he wanted more of this; more of Neville.

Neville reached around to grasp Harry’s erection, and Harry batted his hand away.

“Don’t! I’ll come!” He gasped.

“Don’t you want to?” Neville seemed confused, concerned, but maybe a little amused as well.

“Not without you!” Harry said. He looked over his shoulder to meet Neville’s eyes for the first time since the onslaught began.

“Do you...” Neville hesitated, darting his eyes back and forth, “You want me? On top? Inside you, I mean?”

“I thought that was what we were doing, here.” Harry said, perhaps a little too dryly, because Neville bit his lip and looked hurt for a moment.

\---

“Yeah, but he wanted to hear it!” Ron declared suddenly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, and Ron shook his head in exasperation.

“Yeah, duh, he was...prepping you, or whatever.” Ron waved his hands dismissively, “But he still wanted to hear you say you wanted it, you know?”

“No, that wasn’t it.” Harry shook his head.

“Oh, but it makes sense.” Hermione nodded at Ron, “He probably wanted to be sure you really wanted to go all the way...”

“Well, maybe, but...no. He wasn’t worried about consent, or...I guess he kind of was...” Harry swallowed, “He was worried because...”

\---

“I’m...big.” Neville said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

\---

“How big?” both Hermione and Ron asked at the same time.

\---

“Big enough that it might hurt.” Neville said, sighing like he was disappointed by having a large cock.

“Can you give me...some kind of idea?” Harry asked awkwardly.

“Bigger than you...” Neville winced.

“That’s not saying a whole lot.” Harry said, with a humor filled smile.

“...by more than an inch.” Neville finished.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

\---

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Ron held up his hands, “I’m calling bullshit! I’ve seen both your pricks, alright?”

“Do you need to tell me something?” Hermione asked with a giggle.

“No,” said with a long-suffering eye roll, “but we’ve all changed in front of each other since we were eleven. He’s like...maybe a tiny bit bigger. But we’re talking,” Ron scrunched up his face in consideration, “maybe half an inch. Max.”

“He’s bigger...when he’s hard.” Harry said quietly.

“A grower, not a shower?” Hermione asked. She hadn’t stopped smiling for some time now, and it didn’t look like the expression would leave her face any time soon.

“Oh my gawd, ‘Mione shuddup.” Ron covered his entire face with his hand, and turned bright red from the effort of suppressing his laughter.

\---

Harry paused for a moment, then turned around to fully face Neville. He took off his shirt, and put his glasses back on.

“Let’s see it, then.” He said, firmly.

Harry didn’t think he had ever seen Neville so nervous, and he had sat near him in Double Potions for 6 years. Neville bit his lip, wouldn’t look Harry in the eyes, and his hands seemed to be shaking. Still, he was brave, just like Harry had said, and those trembling fingers unbuttoned the fly of his trousers.

Even still trapped in his pants, Harry could tell that Neville had not been lying. It wasn’t monstrous like the kind of thing Harry had seen in porn, but at almost the length of his wand and as thick as a galleon, it was still rather intimidating. 

\---

“You’re phoenix feather wand, right? Not the elder wand,” Hermione asserted, “because that would be ridiculous.”

\---

Neville bit his lips together as he pulled it out, pumping it once or twice in his hand in an involuntary way. Harry stared, with no idea how he was managing to keep his breath controlled. It struck him how something could look so frightening and inviting at the same time. He wanted to touch it, and he didn’t want to touch it. He wanted to suck it, but that seemed gross too. He wanted it inside him, but the idea scared him. And then, Harry looked up into Neville’s face.

\---

“And it was...still Neville.” Harry told Hermione and Ron, thoughtfully, “Big eyes, and simple brown hair, and all nervous like he is. I know it sounds weird, but it’s like...I suddenly remembered it was him. And instead of being thrown off or panicking like ‘shit, this is Neville’, it made me not as scared, because I know Neville would never hurt me.”

Both of Ron and Hermione’s smiles turned from goofy to sincere. They looked over at each other, and then reached out and held hands. The tender moment was a reflection of Harry’s romantic sentiment, but he choose to take no credit for it. He simply enjoyed the fact, like he did every time he saw them exchange affection, that they were finally together. 

“There is a strange mix of risk and security when you’re with someone you have been friends with for ages.” Hermione said, looking at Ron all the while.

“Yeah.” Ron said vaguely. Then, seeming to shake himself out of it, he turned back to Harry and said “Then what happened?”

Hermione too, turned back to face him and looked expectant.

“Well, even though I wasn’t scared of it any more, I still wasn’t exactly sure what to do, but...”

\---

Harry knew he wanted to go through with this. If Neville could be brave enough, so could he. Knowing that Neville would be kind and considerate, and would stop if he hurt him, Harry felt a tingle of excitement overtake his feelings of fear. It had been a long time since he had had sex, and even longer since he had been as turned on as he was in that moment. He wanted it, in a pure and unpresumptuous way. He just wasn’t sure how to say it without sounding ridiculous in the process. So, rather than the verbal, he decided to go for the physical.

Both of them were on their knees on the bed, Harry completely naked except for his glasses, and Neville with his pants around his thighs. Harry knee-walked the short distance between them, and wrapped his arms around the other man. He kissed him, open mouthed, but without a lot of tongue, because his focus was on pressing himself against Neville’s hardness, touching it skin-to-skin for the first time.

At the first sensation of skin touching his cock, Neville’s hips thrust forward and Harry gasped.It was like velvet wrapped around something sturdier, and their erections slid effortlessly against each other. They snogged, rutting against each other in slow, steady motions. Harry’s hands roamed up and down Neville’s back. Neville did the same, but when his hands reached Harry’s lower back, they continued down, grabbing his bottom to press their groins closer together.

Neville gripped Harry’s bum with his strong fingers, and did three very hard, short thrust against him, then suddenly let go. Harry grabbed his wrists, and put Neville’s hands back on his butt. They parted lips, and Harry rested the tip of his nose against Neville’s and stared into his eyes, smiling. Neville began kneading his flesh and rocking against him, gentler than before, but still demanding and needy. Harry returned the gesture, pushing his hips against Neville’s, but it wasn’t enough.

“Neville,” Harry said against his lips, “I trust you. I want you to. But I’ve never done it before. I don’t know how.”

“Oh, Harry.” Neville groaned, and kissed him full on, sucking and licking, holding him as close as possible. He pulled back to remove the last of his clothing, then kissed Harry again, wrapping his arms around him and guiding him so that they were both lying down, Neville on top of Harry.

They snogged briefly, both of their hands wandering freely. Harry, past the point of being self conscious, spread his legs wide and tried to angle his hips so that Neville pressed against his entrance. 

“Harry, calm down!” Neville pleaded, “I can’t just stick it in, I’ll hurt you!”

“You won’t bloody hurt me!” Harry all but screamed, frustrated and horny on a level he had never been before. A voice in his head was chanting: Want it. Want it. Want it.

“No. I won’t.” Neville said softly, sincerely, “Not if I do this right.”

Gazing into Harry’s eyes, he slipped one lubed up finger, quickly followed by a second, and began pistoning them in and out. With the other, he began to rub the slickness liberally all over his cock.

\---

“This is a weird question.” Hermione prefaced slowly, “but where did he get the lube?”

“What?” Harry asked, his eyes losing their glazed look as he snapped back to the present. 

“The lube, Harry. Did he bring it with him, or do you have some?” Hermione pursed her lips and raised one eyebrow, clearly trying not to giggle.

Harry looked at Ron, who grinned and looked expectantly in Harry’s direction. The lightning bolt scar wrinkled as Harry furrowed his brow in thought.

“You have no idea where it came from, do you?” Ron openly mocked Harry with one of his best goofy grins.

“Oh, shut it, Ron.” Harry retorted quietly, “I guess he must have...” Harry began.

“You really don’t know?” Hermione asked.

“WELL, I WAS KIND OF DISTRACTED.” Harry hollered, in order to be heard over Ron’s hardy laughter.

\---

Neville positioned himself at Harry’s entrance, took a couple deep breaths to collect himself, then pushed inside. At first, it felt big. Much too big. Harry was sure it just wouldn’t fit, but then the head pushed past the first ring of muscle and Neville brought himself the rest of the way in with one long, slow, controlled thrust. Harry went quiet and still. His eyes were wide and he opened his mouth like he was screaming, but no sound came out. 

“Are you alright?” Neville asked directly into his ear. He hadn’t moved yet, checking in on Harry before he did anything else. 

“Heeeeeeeeh.” Harry knew the noise he had just made communicated absolutely nothing, but he seemed to be having issues making words today.

\---

“Here’s the thing:” Harry explained, “It didn’t hurt. Like...at all. You know, it’s supposed to hurt. I don’t mean supposed to really, but...it’s meant to hurt a little, even a girl’s first time, you know? Don’t get me wrong, it felt weird. Kind of like going to the bathroom in reverse.”

Ron wrinkled up his face in disgust, but Hermione had steeled her expression into something determinedly neutral.

“But it absolutely didn’t hurt. And once he was all the way in, it didn’t even feel gross anymore. It felt the opposite. Like too much. But not just because he’s big, which was a shocking feeling, by the way, but it was almost like it caused...too much pleasure. I couldn’t handle feeling so fantastic all at once. Does that make sense?”

Ron glanced over at Hermione, who nodded.

\---

“Harry, you’re not making any sense!” Neville said in a voice that was desperately pleading, “Did I hurt you? Do you like it?”

“No. Yes! I mean...I can’t...” Harry could have kicked himself, because that definitely was not the thing to say if you wanted someone to continue what they are doing, and Neville began to pull out almost immediately. Harry put both hands on Neville’s butt, and pulled him back in. They both gasped and clenched like one being. Harry shivered all over, reveling in the feeling of Neville back inside him again.

“Dammit!” Harry cried, covering his face with his hands, “I want it so badly I can’t form the words to tell you!”

“You just kind of did tell me, Harry.” Neville sat up, still inside him, and gently lifted Harry’s hands away from his face. He was smiling, and it wasn’t the smile of some studly dom, all cocksure and proud for driving Harry crazy, it was the same sweet, nervous, friendly smile that Neville had when Harry paid him a compliment, or offered to share a snack with him. He was the same, self conscious, anxious Neville Longbottom he had always been.

\---

“Actually, that’s kind of a lie.” Harry admitted, “I mean yeah, he’s not all ‘haha, you’re my bitch’ but...he was definitely a little more confident once he was inside me.”

“How so?” Hermione asked.

\---

“If you roll over on your stomach, I can fuck you from that angle you liked before.” Neville said. 

It sounded like a very reasonable request, so Harry complied, sticking his arse up in the air the way he had earlier. Neville spread his arse cheeks apart and groaned at the very sight of him. 

“You closed right back up.” Neville informed him, as he pushed back inside. Harry realized what he meant, because Neville had to gradually fuck himself back into Harry. He would push in a couple inches, then pull all the way out, and then be able to go in an inch or two deeper than he had the last time, before having to pull back out again. It felt weird and wonderful.

Once inside all the way, Neville began to fuck Harry, just like he’d promised. And, just like he’d promised, it was right on that angle that Harry loved so much. Neville was going slow and steady, but Harry was moaning and yelling like he was in a porno.

“Neville! Shit! Nev-nev-nev-Neville!” Harry panted and moaned. He screamed out every single time Neville hit his sweet spot, and groaned in pleasure almost as intense every time he barely grazed it.

Neville wasn’t a screamer like Harry; he was a talker. He said beautiful things, in a voice so calm sometimes it made Harry worry maybe he wasn’t rocking Neville’s world the way Neville was rocking his. But then his voice would crack, and he’d whisper ‘oh Harry’ mid-sentence, and it sent a tingle down Harry’s spine like nothing else.

“You’re so amazing. Merlin, I’ve wanted this for so long. Thank you so much for giving this to me. You are so beautiful. Your skin is so soft oh Harry I just want to touch you all over. You feel so good. You are so oh Harry so tight.”

And amidst the torrent of all the nicest things anyone had ever said to him, Neville was constantly using The Phrase to make sure Harry was happy.

“You like that?” Neville asked, when he peppered Harry back with kisses.

“Yessssssssss.” Harry hissed, as he shivered all over and felt the goose pimples rise all over his body.

“You like that?” Neville asked as he played with Harry’s balls while he fucked him.

“Ye-e-es!” Harry whimpered.

“You like that?” Neville asked, when he adjust his angle to hit Harry prostate spot-on for several thrusts in a row.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Harry had replied, tugging at himself furiously.

Neville hit a rhythm with his thrusts, and it became a chant, with Neville saying The Phrase and Harry screaming back ‘yes’ over and over. Neville’s hand travelled from Harry’s balls to his prick, and the way he wanked Harry was different than anything Harry had done to himself. He couldn’t understand how something like a hand job could have so much talent in it. Maybe it was the way Neville flicked his wrist and gave it a little twist, or the way he swiped his thumb over the head, or maybe it was that he was already so close.

“Hurry. I’m so close. Hurry.” Neville said, just as Harry was beginning to think of Quidditch stats to hold himself back.

It was too easy to come. Much, much too easy. It was like he should have come ages ago and had just finally let go. And when he did come, he screamed. He might have screamed Neville’s name, or he might have just let out a loud sound, he honestly couldn’t remember. What he did remember was, moments later, Neville coming with a whispery groan, and both their bodies convulsing together for what felt like glorious ages. 

Harry fell asleep almost immediately afterwards, and felt that it was the best sleep he’d had since before the war.

\---

Harry leaned his lips against his steepled fingers and stared at his shoes. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, and then back to him. Harry remained silent for several moments, and then sighed heavily, and finally looked up into the faces of his closest friends.

“And when I woke up, he was gone.”

Hermione gasped, and Ron scowled.

“So, I went for a run. I ran for like an hour straight...”

“A run?” Ron asked.

“Well, I would have gone for a fly, but I was...sore.” Harry winced.

“Harry,” Ron said slowly, biting back the grin at his friend’s last comment, “I mean this in the nicest way possible: This could only happen to you.”

“Oh, Ron.” Hermione reprimanded.

“No. I mean it. Merlin’s balls.” Ron shook his head, caught between grinning and frowning, “Only Harry Potter could go from dating my sister, to getting bum-fucked by Neville Longbottom.”

“Ron.” Hermione said, more sternly this time, “You’re making Harry feel bad.”

Ron began to chuckle again, and Hermione hit him in the arm.

“Thanks guys.” Harry said sarcastically, flopping back down on the sofa, “You’ve been a real help.”

“Ignore Ron.” Hermione flashed a sideways look at her boyfriend, who was still dramatically rubbing where she’s hit him, “Well? When are you going to see him again?”

“I don’t know.” Harry rubbed his nose and didn’t meet her eyes.

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione gave a long suffering sigh, “You haven’t talked with him at all since, have you?” 

“I can’t.” Harry said, panic welling in his throat at the thought.

“Come on, mate.” Ron admonished, “Neville’s always been crazy about you. You got this in the bag.”

“It’s not about that, Ron.” Hermione explained patiently, “You always had a chance with me and it still took you 7 years.”

“I always had a chance with you?” Ron seemed genuinely surprised.

“Oh, honestly.” Hermione rolled her eyes, “Seriously though, Harry. You need to talk to him. Otherwise, the next time you’ll see him will be at your double birthday party. Imagine how awkward that will be.”

“I get what both of you are saying, but no.” Harry told the pillow, “ He left for a reason. We were both drunk, and he probably regretted it as soon as he woke up. I’m just going to leave this alone. By the time our birthday rolls around, it’ll just be that one crazy night we don’t talk about.”


	2. Gasps in the Greenhouse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently the most efficient way for me to get into character to write Ron is to talk with my mouth full.
> 
> Sorry, I know you guys have been WAITING FOREVER for this update, but I really, really, really wanted to get this right. There are too few top!Neville fics out there, especially neville/harry, to just sloppily throw something together and leave it at that.

Despite what he’d said to Ron and Hermione, Harry couldn’t get Neville off his mind. It didn’t matter that from any reasonable point of view it was just a one night stand, to Harry it had been much more. He knew, suddenly and absolutely in the same fashion he decided most things, that he was gay. Neville had torn apart all the ideas Harry had about his sexualty and put them back together via orgasm. 

Still, going to visit Neville at his gran’s house wasn’t something Harry did eagerly, but Hermione was right when she’d said it had to happen. This preoccupation, going back over their night together again and again in his mind, wasn’t healthy. And, if the pile of crumpled parchment on Harry’s desk was any indication, owling Neville wasn’t turning out to be all that productive either. The only solution was action, and it was a solution which played nicely to Harry’s nature. 

The biggest surprise about the Longbottom’s house was the apparent disrepair. The paint on the sides of the house was cracked and peeling, and all the plants in the yard, though spry enough, were unkempt and wild. Every single shutter on the two story house seemed to only have one hinge attached, and the windows were so dirty Harry had a hard time believing anyone actually used them to look through. He wondered, or more like hoped, that this was some kind of enchantment designed to keep muggles away, rather than the way Neville actually lived.

Knocking on the door, Harry shifted awkwardly in place, wondering what he would say if Neville’s grandmother answered the door. It was almost as frightening as what he would say if it was Neville. As it happened, neither of them did. Instead, the heavy oak swung open to reveal a tiny house elf in a neon orange tea cozy. 

“Er…” Harry cleared his throat. “I’m here to see Neville?”

“Master Neville is in the greenhouse, sir.” The house elf held the door open a little wider to allow Harry access. 

The inside was so appalling that Harry had to do a doubletake to believe a house elf actually lived there. It wasn’t just dusty or cluttered like his own home had been before they’d cleared out Mrs. Black’s old stuff; it was _full_. The closest thing Harry could compare it to was the Come-and-Go room where he’d found the diadem, because every inch of the Longbottom’s house was stuffed full of boxes and knickknacks. There seemed to be at least two of everything from chairs to ceramic kittens. It appeared as though when something had broken it hadn’t been thrown away when a replacement was purchased, just shoved into whatever space was available. It looked as though someone was just using this place to store their unwanted items.

\---

“Like my old room at the Dursleys.” Harry said solemnly, “Did you ever get a good look at it?”

“Kind of hard to, mate.” Ron said gently, “Through the bars and such.”

He was at Ron and Hermione’s home, a modest apartment just outside London. It had only one bedroom, but with a full kitchen and a cozy sitting room where they were currently taking tea. Harry was sitting in an oversized chair that looked distinctly muggle in origin, probably a purchase of Hermione’s rather than Ron’s. Ron, for his part, was slouched on the loveseat caddy corner to where Harry was sitting. The room gave the semblance that there ought to be a telly they were both facing, but instead there was a book shelf packed with leatherbound tomes.

“Well, my old room, once they moved me out of the cupboard,” Harry explained patiently and without shame “was where all of Dudley’s old broken things ended up. Like a store room, where I’d just been stuck in. The things were what the room was really for. Neville’s whole house is like that, where you get the feeling that it’s the stuff’s home, but not the people’s home.”

“Neville’s gran is a hoarder?” Ron asked, putting a word to the lifestyle Harry had found so lamentable.

“Yeah.” Harry said nodding to himself, “Yeah, I think that’s it.”

\---

“This way, sir.” The Longbottom’s house elf squeaked, snaking its way through the piles of hoarded mess Neville’s grandmother had created. Harry followed, squeezing through the strange little pathway, trying not to bump the piles with his elbows. 

‘ _This is more like it_ ’ Harry thought, finally coming through the back door and back into fresh air again. 

Neville’s hand was much more evident here. It was a slim garden for the size of the Longbottom’s house, but the grass was short and bright green. There were some boxes that had seemingly overflowed onto the brick patio, but beyond them were pots full of herbs that Harry recognized from his classes at Hogwarts. Crammed into the corner, framed by perky little box shrubs, was a greenhouse. It was just like the kind that were at garden supply places, clear plastic stretched over a wooden frame, except that it was no bigger than a phone booth or a police box. There was music coming from it, faint but with an aggressive guitar. The house elf led him to the entrance, then bowed low and disappeared with a crack like a whip.

Harry lifted up the edge of the thick plastic and stuck his head into the greenhouse. He was immediately filled with the kind of wonder that only comes from being raised by muggles. The greenhouse was much bigger on the inside, about the length and twice the width of one of the tables in the Great Hall. There were shelves on every wall that housed all kinds of plants, and a long work table in the center with dirt and trowels scattered all over it, evidence of projects completed and in progress. An antique wireless was squeezed onto one of the shelves, and the plants on either side bobbed and swayed to a wizarding pop song. Neville was sitting on a high three-legged stool, going at the roots of a humming ficus with a strange little wooden tool that looked like a miniature hockey stick. It pleased Harry to think that Neville escaped the confines of his gran’s cramped house to be somewhere like this.

The first thing that struck Harry, after realizing that the greenhouse was enchanted, was that all his attraction to Neville had not been caused by beer goggles. Neville looked good. He was wearing what should have been, and what were, normal clothes. He was obviously not attempting to be alluring in any way, and from the way he wiped his hands off on his shirt, it was clear that these were his gardening clothes. Yet, to Harry, Neville looked stunning. The black t-shirt fit him well, tight enough to show off his arms and shoulders, but not so tight that it would be unflattering on anything other than washboard abs. He was wearing some baggy throw-away jeans, but the way he was sitting the fabric stretched taut across his crotch and Harry found his eyes lingering there a little too long.

There was something so unusually confident about Neville in that moment. The way he was sitting, legs spread wide with his heels balanced on the rungs of the stool. He took up space in a way that Harry was not use to seeing. Neville shifted, grabbed a spade, then went to work with it, scooping dirt into a planter. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and it left a smudge of dirt there. It was quite possibly the most adorable bit of dirt on the planet. As soon as the repotting was done, Neville picked up the pot and set it down with its mates on the shelf behind him.

Steeling himself, Harry took the step necessary to come fully into the greenhouse. The movement made the plastic doorway rustle, and hearing the noise Neville whirled around.

“Abner, if gran wants som- oh.” The look of surprise on Neville’s face might have been funny if Harry hadn’t been hoping so much for a smile.

“Hey.” Harry smiled, but it came out looking more like a wince. 

“Hey.” Neville winced back.

“‘lo…” Harry wheezed, “How’s it...How are you?”

“Good. Good.” Neville bit his bottom lip, “Great. Super. You know.”

“Yeah…”

They stood in silence for a few moments, until Harry couldn’t take it any more.

“Neville, I just don’t want us to be weird like this.” Harry scratched his head and tried again, “I don’t want things to change between us.”

“N-no! No. I mean, yes! Things don’t have to change. Is what I mean. Harry.” Neville stared down at his hands in his lap and closed his eyes, “Let’s just stay friends. Please.”

“Friends.” Harry felt a sinking feeling in his chest. The sudden and deep sadness made it hard to smile when he spoke, “Yeah. Just friends. Great.”

\---

“And then..he was showing me around the greenhouse and then…” Harry said, awkwardly stirring his cup of tea that he had yet to put either milk or sugar into.

“And then?” Ron prompted. 

“And then...my clothes fell off!” Harry slammed the cup down on its saucer and covered his face with his hands, half to hide his face and half to protect himself from the spray of tea coming from Ron’s mouth.

“Hermione! Hermione! Hurry!” Ron called at his girlfriend who was searching the kitchen for the biscuits she insisted she had bought but Ron insisted she had forgotten, “It happened again! Hermione, come quick!”

“What happened?” Hermione emerged from the kitchen with a cellophane package to sit down next to Ron on the sofa, “They had sex again?”

“In the greenhouse this time!” Ron said gleefully.

“At Hogwarts?” Hermione sounded properly scandalized by the idea of anyone having sex on campus.

“No, no!” Ron waved his hand in her face, “Neville’s greenhouse at his gran’s.”

“Did she walk in on you?” Hermione asked Harry, less shocked now it wasn’t desecrating Hogwarts grounds. She opened the bag of oatmeal raisin biscuits and put three on each of their saucers.

“We didn’t get caught.” Harry said with a little pout “And it wasn’t on purpose.”

“He said his clothes fell off.” Ron goaded, elbowing Hermione lightly. The bushy haired scholar bit her lip to prevent a laugh from falling out her mouth.

“Well then.” She said, expectantly, “Go ahead. What happened?”

“Well, we agreed to stay friends. And it was awkward…” Harry rubbed his hands up and down his trouser legs absentmindedly, “...and sad...but it seemed settled. And then…”

\---

Harry heard a sound like breathing coming from the shelf on his right. Eager for a distraction from the current conversation, he turned to find what looked like regular daffodils except that they seemed to be trying to sniff him. He leaned in and sure enough, the daffodils came to meet him, pulling in great breaths through their cups.

“The flowers are smelling _me_.” Harry said with child-like wonder. 

“Er...they’re actually breathing in your carbon dioxide,” Neville explained, standing up to come around and show them off a little better, “They need lots to sustain their movement, so they dedicate a lot of their magic to absorbing it. The cup actually creates a little vortex, which helps it to permeate the...and I’m boring you, aren’t I? I’m sorry. I forget people don’t always like plants as much as me.”

“Carbon dioxide…” Harry mumbled, ignoring Neville’s typical self defaming words. He breathed directly onto the little clay pot full of blooms, and every single one of them stood at full attention and began sniffing frantically in his direction. Amused, he repeated the action.

“Oh!” Harry thought suddenly, turning to Neville in alarm, “Will I mess them up if I give them too much?”

“No, you’re fine.” Neville stared down at the ground and shuffled his feet, but he was smiling. Harry was pleased to see what looked like the first genuinely happy expression on Neville’s face since he arrived. He would have preferred Neville to have been looking at him, but at this point he would take what he could get.

“I didn’t grow up around magical plants.” Harry explained, “I don’t know anything about them.”

“I can...show you around, if you’d like?” Neville looked up from his feet and gestured to the rest of the greenhouse eagerly.

“Yeah, Nev. That’d be great!” Harry beamed.

Neville lead him over to a plant that looked like a topiary covered in orange, red and brown jelly beans. Harry stood as close to Neville as he dared without touching, drumming his fingers against the aluminum shelf with nervous energy.

“This is a _Phaseolus ignem_. Fire bean.” Neville explained. He picked off one of red beans and snapped it in half. A spark flew out and Harry jumped back, right into Neville. The taller boy steadied him with a hand on his shoulder. Harry felt the warmth of Neville’s hand through his shirt and suppressed a shiver. 

“You’re meant to dry them out.” Neville continued, “and then use them as a sort of flint? For cooking potions.”

“Why not just use your wand?” Harry asked, wondering if that sounded as much like an innuendo to Neville, as it did to him.

“Oh, well, some people like it completely natural.” Neville said pleasantly. Harry swallowed.

\---

“Oh, that was not an innuendo.” Hermione tutted.

“I know.” Harry pouted, “But I was horny, like, you know?”

“Yeah mate, I know.” Ron grinned at him, pieces of raisin stuck between his teeth, “Hermione was trying to explain her work to me the other day but all I heard was ‘suck on my tits’”

“Ronald!” Hermione scolded, turning bright red and smacking him on the arm just hard enough to smart, “But what I meant was, there’s some professional potion craftsmen who believe that a pure potion has to have no other magic involved in its creation. So no spell-created fire. Dragon flint use to be used, but that’s illegal now.”

“Right.” Harry said firmly, not at all interested.

\---

“They look like Bertie Bott’s.” Harry said, taking the bean from Neville for a closer look.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t eat them.” Neville bit his lip and looked a little sick, “They can literally start a fire in your belly. You’d burn from the inside out.”

“Alright, then.” Harry placed the bean in front of him on the shelf and moved back from it a little.

“If-If you’re interested in things you can eat, you should taste this!” Neville said eagerly, guiding Harry by his shoulder a few feet down the shelf to a collection of seedlings in little planter six-packs. One of the groups of six looked very much like strawberries, except that they had caramel colored bubbles where the berries would be.

“Try one.” Neville encouraged gleefully. 

Harry reached out to touch one, but the moment he did the bubble popped and was little more than vapor in the air.

“I’m sorry!” Harry looked over at Neville, worried.

“It’s alright. They’re very delicate.” Neville didn’t look upset, in fact it was quite the opposite. He had a bright, almost mischievous smile and rosy cheeks. 

Gently, Neville picked one of the stems that supported a bubble and brought it up to Harry’s mouth. Harry opened his mouth and Neville touched the magical fruit to the tip of Harry’s tongue.

“Butterscotch…” Harry said as the vapor burst in his mouth, leaving behind a tingling sensation.

“Yep.” Neville said softly, looking directly at Harry’s mouth, “Butterscotch berries. The larger ones are considered a delicacy.”

“And you grow them?” Harry asked, licking the finger that had burst the first berry. Neville followed the action with his eyes, licking his lips unconsciously, and Harry kept his finger in his mouth a little longer than necessary.

\---

“Harry Potter!” Hermione exclaimed in mock-outrage, “You little tease!”

\---

“Yeah, er...I do...Hey, come’ere.” Neville grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him farther into the greenhouse. Harry let himself be lead, enjoying the feel of Neville’s hand; warm with rough calluses and a little bit of gritty dirt from the work he’d been doing earlier. 

Neville brought him to a shelf that resembled a rolling baker’s rack, except that the rows and rows of baking sheets had grass growing in them. He let go of Harry’s hand, much to Harry’s dismay, and slid one of the trays out of its resting place, setting it on the table gently.

“Apple grass. Smell.” Neville had a full, broad smile, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Harry walked around Neville to stand in front of him, and then bent over to sniff the tray. The scent was the perfect mixture of cut grass and tart apples, both delicious and refreshing. It occurred to Harry that he was bent over directly in front of Neville and stood up abruptly. 

“Wow.” Harry said giddily, wondering if Neville had enjoyed the view, “That smells really great, Neville. Really.”

“Some day I want to have a garden of my own where I can plant my whole yard with it.” Neville said with a dreamy look on his face, “Gran won’t let me.”

“That sounds amazing, Neville.” Harry said genuinely. He imagined what it would be like to lay outside on a lazy summer afternoon when your garden was full of apple grass. He could almost hear the click of ice in glass of pumpkin juice, and feel a wafty breeze bringing the smell of tart apples. 

“And-and I would grow all my own food!” Neville said eagerly, “Tomatoes and oranges in the kitchen! Mint and jasmine to freshen the bathrooms.”

“Plants in every room?” Harry laughed.

“Every single one.” Neville confirmed, putting the flat of grass back up and bringing down another, this one seemed to be moving, “You can make bathmats out of moss and -and this could be...like for...hanging things. Or something.”

Harry blinked, bringing his gaze from Neville’s cheeky smile to the flat of long, dark green grass, writhing slowly like snakes.

“I call it Chinese-finger-trap grass.” Neville said blushing and grinning in what might have been called a flirtatious way, though Harry could figure out why. The grass looked a bit creepy to him. 

“Touch it!” Neville said eagerly, “Be gentle, I mean, but...put your hand on it.”

“Alright.” Harry steeled himself, more worried that he’d just found a kink of Neville’s that he wasn’t particularly fond of than he was that the grass might hurt him.

Slowly, Harry slid his fingertips against the tops of the grass. The blades unwound slowly, reaching up towards him and wrapping around his fingers in tiny tendrils. Harry tried to pull away, but the tendrils tightened and more of the strands joined in. Not so much that it hurt, but tightly enough that Harry knew if he ripped his hand away he would break the fragile vines of the finger-trap grass.

“I’ll...help you escape.” Neville said softly. Gently, he covered Harry’s hand with his own and pushed down into the pan, then slid both their hands back and away.

“It’s like Devil’s Snare!” Harry exclaimed, happy to know the name of at least one plant.

“Yeah, it’s a hybrid.”

“You...bred it?” Harry was suddenly much more impressed by the creepy grass than he had been moment before.

“Er, yeah.” Neville said, shy but proud, “Call me the Hagrid of plants.”

Harry laughed, bubbly and light, placing a hand on Neville’s arm. It was shameless, cheesy flirting. He thought he might even feel his eyelashes fluttering, but he couldn’t help it. He certainly didn’t regret it, when Neville’s smile broadened and he put his own hand over Harry’s on his arm. 

“I’ve always kind of wanted to teach Herbology, actually.” Neville confessed, rubbing the rough pad of his thumb over Harry’s knuckles, “I’ve been owling back and forth with Sprout about it. She’s promised to put a good word in when she retires.”

“Oh wow, Nev!” Harry said, completely and utterly pulverised by the tingles Neville’s touch was sending through him, “I can totally see it! Professor Longbottom!”

\---

“And then your clothes fell off.” Ron presumed eagerly.

“Er, no, actually.” Harry bit his lip and drummed his fingers against his tea cup.

“Well, when are we getting to the sex part, then?” Ron huffed, sounding more than a little impatient. 

“Ron and I were saying that you should write romance novels.” Hermione said into her tea, before taking a sip, “You describe it so well.”

“Glad to know that my crisis of sexuality is so entertaining for you both.” Harry said wryly.

“Oh please.” Hermione rolled her eyes, “What crisis?”

“Yeah, mate.” Ron giggled, “You don’t seem all that confused.”

“I’m...I’m not.” Harry set his tea down and rubbed his hands together anxiously, before linking his fingers together as a way of preventing the movement, “I’m almost too sure. I almost...like it too much.”

Ron laughed, and reached out across the slender coffee table, smacking Harry on the arm. 

“You’ve never enjoyed it enough, mate!” He said emphatically.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked.

“You always…” Ron stopped, squinting at the ceiling in deep thought for a moment, “You never said to me...anything like you wanted to have sex with someone. You always...’oh, she’s pretty.’ sort of thing. You know what I mean.”

Harry blinked.

“What Ron’s getting at, Harry,” Hermione said kindly, patting Ron on the knee, “Is that you’ve never seemed like a very sexual person before. You’ve never seemed carnally attracted to other people.”

“You don’t like it too much, mate.” Ron assured him, “You like it the way the rest of us like it. Which is a lot.”

“Oh.” Harry said faintly, looking down at his hands in passive contemplation.

“Now, is all this foreplay going somewhere?” Hermione asked primly.

“Ah, yes.” Harry grinned, “But you’ll never believe...Neville, even sober, he’s so funny when he’s trying to flirt. It’s...It’s really great.” 

\---

“You’ve got a bit of…” Harry reached up to Neville’s face with his free hand and wiped away the dirt that was drying there. 

Neville flinched before he realized what Harry was doing, and then relaxed into the touch. Harry tried to be as gentle as he could, but there was one spec that was stuck on harder than the rest and he had to use his nail to scrape it off. Neville didn’t seem to mind, though. He grinned and giggled a little, like it tickled, still not letting go of Harry’s hand on his arm. 

“Thanks.” Neville said softly, glancing down at Harry’s mouth., “You’ve...er...got some too.”

Harry was quite positive he did not have a single bit of dirt on his face, but Neville reached up and pressed his thumb against Harry’s chin. Neville rubbed it up and down, as though removing the imaginary mess, and in one pass was even so bold as to brush Harry’s bottom lip. Their faces were closer than Harry remembered them being just a few moments before. Harry tilted his head in anticipation of the kiss he could see Neville contemplating, turning his hand on Neville’s arm so that their fingers intertwined. 

When suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes, Harry noticed something strange and familiar. It was huge, taller than Harry, shaped like a cactus, and seemed to be pulsating and squirming.

“Is that…” Harry dropped his hand from Neville’s arm, but kept hold of his fingers. 

“Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Yeah.” Neville said, scratching the back of his neck idly with his free hand.

“It’s bigger than I remember.”

“That’s what all the blokes say.”

“Professor Longbottom!” Harry turned, agape, to find Neville sheepish but grinning widely.

“Come on, _Mr. Potter_.” Neville said, trying to be flirtatious, but missing the mark because of his shuffling feet and still not quite being able to meet Harry’s eyes for more than a moment or two, “There’s one more thing I want to show you.”

\---

“His dick.” Ron prompted.

“Quiet, you.”

\---

Neville didn’t drag him along behind him, they walked side by side, lazily, like whatever Neville was going to show him next was not nearly as important as the four or five steps they got to spend together. Holding Neville’s hand, this way with their fingers linked, felt right in a way Harry could not describe. It made him think inexplicable of hot chocolate and laughter, like holding Neville’s hand was what happiness was. It was incredibly cheesy, and Harry was as embarrassed to feel it as he was to tell anyone about it, but it was the truth. It felt right. 

“This is my newest addition.” Neville said pleasantly, looking at Harry instead of the potted plant on the shelf before them.

It was a small plant, unremarkable, with dark green stems and sparse leaves. At the tip of one or two of the branches, of which there were very few, were tightly closed buds. Harry regarded it with feigned interest, concentrating instead on how he could feel Neville’s gaze on him, wondering when (if ever!) he was supposed to let go of his hand. 

“It’s nice.” 

“This isn’t what it really looks like.” Neville rushed, “It’s got these gorgeous red blooms. But you can’t see them. You have to get them to come out in order to pollinate them. That’s what they’re so hard to breed. Not that I’m going to. Breed it, I mean. I’ve only got the one, but it just sounded like such an...interesting plant.”

“Can I see?” Harry asked eagerly, swinging Neville’s hand back and forth a bit.

“You have to...you have to st-stroke the stems. A bit.” Neville bit his bottom lip, and letting go of Harry’s hand, he grabbed him by the shoulders and stood him directly in front of the shrub, “Why don’t you...give it a try.”

“Alright.” Harry said, feeling a bit dazed. Neville was right behind him, hands on his shoulders, thumbs resting on the skin just inside of his collar. 

Harry reached out and pinched one of the stems lightly between his index finger and thumb, moving his fingers up the branch with mild pressure. The plant shuddered, but no blooms came up. Harry felt like a complete and utter failure in the most absurd fashion. Like somehow he had failed a test to see if he could get into Neville’s pants again.

“Here.” Neville said lightly. He brought his right hand up to take Harry’s right wrist, resting his other hand on Harry’s hip, so that they were pressed tightly together, front to back. Neville reached with Harry’s hand towards the plant like he was a marionette, then hesitated, brought it back to Harry’s face. He used the knuckles of Harry’s own hand to stroke down the side of Harry’s face, temple to jaw line.

“Soft.” Neville said directly into Harry’s ear, continuing down to stroke Harry’s neck, “Like you’re trying to make it shiver.”

\---

Harry shivered where he sat on the armchair in Hermione and Ron’s flat. He wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes briefly with a soft sigh. When he opened them again, his friends were staring at him with rapt attention. 

“ _and then your clothes fell off._ ” Ron said in a reverent whisper.

“Merlin, yes.” Harry breathed.

\---

Harry never knew what the blooms looked like. Even as Neville directed Harry’s hand back towards the plant, they were both going in for a kiss. It was a bit awkward at first, craning his head around to kiss Neville over his shoulder, but he barely noticed. When their lips met, Harry sighed like he was slipping into a warm bath, and everything else was forgotten.

“Dammit, Harry.” Neville mumbled against his lips.

Both of them turned, rearranging their bodies, awkwardly bumping knees and elbows, until they were facing each other. For a moment, arms wrapped around each other, it was a romantic kiss. Two seconds later, Harry stumbled back against the work table in the middle of the greenhouse, and it became voluptuously carnal. 

As soon as Harry’s bum hit the table’s surface, it was hands and lips and hot breath. Harry really, genuinely felt like he may have vanished his clothes wordlessly, because one second he was fully clothed sitting on the workbench with Neville standing between his spread legs snogging him with everything he had, the next his pants were hanging off one ankle and Neville had both their cocks in his hand rubbing them together. Just like last time, Harry was nearly naked and Neville was almost completely clothed. And just like last time, Harry found that he really liked that.

\---

“But it was so different from when we were drunk.” Harry said, enthusiastically splaying his fingers on either side of his face, “Not better, because to be honest, I wasn’t nearly as...I wasn’t relaxed enough for it not to hurt a little. But I could pay better attention to him. To Neville.”

\---

And to where the lube came from (Neville’s back pocket), because lube was very, very important if you weren’t going to take the time to work up to anything. And they weren’t. They were both already too far gone. Neville poured the slick on two fingers and stuffed them in without hesitating, already lining up his cock with Harry’s hole.

“Hang on. Hang on.” Neville was mumbling, roughly fucking his fingers into Harry, trying to work him open a little wider. 

It was only then that Harry realized he was begging to be fucked. Really properly begging.

“Please! Please-please-please. Neville! Fuck me, fuck me Neville, please Merlin pleeeeease.”

“Yeah, Harry, yeah.” Neville groaned, rotating his fingers to feel Harry’s insides at every angle he could reach as he stroked himself, “I’m going to, gorgeous. Just hang on.”

\---

“He called you ‘gorgeous’?” Hermione asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Er.” Harry’s face felt hot, and he bit his bottom lip and looked at the floor, “Yeah, he did. Why?”

“That’s awfully nice, is all.” She said sweetly, taking a demure sip of her tea. 

\---

For a single, terrifying moment, it was too much. Neville was too big, the stretch burned, and he was filled with the sudden, horrible fear that he was going to have to push Neville away and tell him ‘no.’ Harry wanted to tell Neville ‘no’ like he wanted to eat brussel sprouts with the Malfoy family. 

“Ah, Merlin! Harry, you’re too tight!” Neville exclaimed, then he was pulling out and getting more lube on himself, working Harry with his fingers to keep him open while he did. 

Warmth bloomed in Harry’s belly. It took him a few moments to realize that what he felt was gratitude. He’d been rushing Neville, demanding to be taken, but Neville knew better. Neville knew he couldn’t just jam it in without hurting him, so he didn’t. It made Harry feel protected, and safe. Maybe it was odd, legs spread wide and open, pretty much as vulnerable as could be, to feel the safest he had in a while. He would never have to tell Neville ‘no’ because, as he’d told Ron and Hermione before, Neville would never hurt him. 

When Neville pushed back in, tip to root, it was smooth as silk and they both sighed into it. Harry wanted to sing from the _rightness_ of it. Neville’s cock belonged inside him, he was sure of it. Harry hugged Neville with all his limbs, clinging to him like a koala, not yet ready to move. After days of relentless worry and loneliness, he let himself enjoy that he was finally here; finally felt complete. 

Neville rubbed his back in soothing circles under his shirt and murmured sweet things into his ear. Most of it was compliments, affectionate little pet names, and promises of things to come. All spoken with an air of wonder and with such careful gentleness, like he was afraid Harry would spook if he layered on how much he adored him too forcefully. 

Neville’s cock, it seemed, had no such qualms. All it took was one roll of the hips from Harry, and Neville’s hips gave an involuntary shudder. He quickly began to piston in and out, rough hands still holding Harry around the waist, controlling his movements. Harry let himself fall back on his elbows, head lulling back and eyes fluttering closed. Neville smoothed his hands up Harry’s sides, bunching up Harry’s shirt to reveal the plains of his chest, flicking at his nipples with his dirt encrusted thumbs. Harry suppressed a high-pitched noise only just barely, and apparently not well enough to escape Neville’s notice.

“You like that?” He murmured, voice still sugar sweet and infinitely tender.

 _The Phrase_ sent a tingle up Harry’s spine and he cried out an enthusiastic “YES!” 

When Neville wrapped his lips about Harry’s nipple, he dug his fingers into Neville’s hair and groaned without restraint. His whole body convulsed, writhing and twitching beneath Neville’s ministrations. Neville’s stubble scraped across his chest as he peppered kisses higher up, finally latching onto Harry’s neck and making him scream and clench down around Neville’s cock. Harry tugged desperately at Neville’s hair, not really wanting him to stop but unable to control himself under such overwhelming sensations. Neville though, didn’t seem to mind. Every time Harry gripped a fist full of soft, brown locks, Neville groaned and panted against him. 

_He likes his hair pulled._ Harry realized, recalling the memories of a drunked blow job where he had just about yanked the hair off Neville’s head and gotten a moan and fluttering eyelashes for his effort.

\---

“The stupid thing is.” Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair and wincing, “I'm an idiot. I really am.”

“Why, ‘cause you didn’t know he liked his hair pulled?” Ron shrugged, dunking his biscuit in his tea and then popping the whole thing in his mouth at once so that he had to talk around it, “‘Lotta peepoll don’”

Hermione rolled her eyes at the crumbs being sprayed all over the coffee table, but nodded in agreement.

“No, because…” Harry sighed again and rolled his eyes, “Because before that it hadn’t even occurred to be to _try to be good._ I was just -” he threw his arms out, palms up in a full upper body shrug, “ _getting fucked._ I just wanted to _be there._ I didn’t even think ‘what can I do to make this good for him?’”

\---

Harry Potter with a goal is a formidable thing. So, when Harry decided to rock Neville’s world like it was a noble quest ordained by God, he damn well accomplished just that. 

Harry planted both heels on the work table and thrust. It took a couple goes to get his timing right, but soon he was coming up to meet Neville with every thrust. Next he tried tightening and relaxing at various intervals and was delighted to discover that this not only caused tingles of pleasure to shoot up his spine light lightening, but also did something similar to Neville, if the sounds the other man was making were anything to go by. 

Muscle rhythm in the lower half of his body firmly established, Harry turned his attentions to what he could do with hands and mouth. He locked his hands in Neville’s hair, and attached his mouth to every piece of his skin he could get at.

It was difficult, but the messier and more haphazard his attempts became, the more frantic Neville got. By the time the orgasm ripped through his body, Harry was doing little more than panting heavily into Neville’s open mouth, his fingers scrabbling at Neville’s scalp uselessly. 

Neville groaned loudly as if Harry’s orgasm was his own, despite still being hard inside him. Perhaps it was from the effort of holding still, for while Harry came, Neville pressed in and held deep. Only after Harry’s breathing returned to something like normal did Neville pick up his pace again, mumbling obscene things Harry would not have been able to imagine coming out of Neville’s mouth a month ago.

“You look so good when you cum, Harry.” Neville panted directly into his ear, “Look so good coming on my cock...Take it. Take all of it. So good…”

Neville came with a gasp, rather than a groan. He clutched Harry almost too tightly against him, holding him close as Harry felt pulse after pulse of sticky cum fill him up. Neville’s knees banged together as his legs spasmed. Harry gently kissed what part of Neville’s bare neck he could reach, unable to move much pressed against Neville like he was, and ran his hands through the other man’s hair soothingly. 

“Merlin.” Neville gasped, finally coming down from what seemed like ages of oragsm, “Harry, you’re incredible.”

\---

Ron clapped, and to Harry’s shock, Hermione soon joined in. They continued long after Harry felt was necessary, even adding in some sound effects. Ron made the noises of a cheering Quidditch stadium, but Hermione went more the theatre route, demanding an encore. 

“I hate you both.” he informed them calmly, and was met only by laughter.

\---  
The afterglow consisted mainly of cleaning up the broken clay pots they’d knocked down in their enthusiasm and grinning at each other shyly. Neville sweeped up the spilled soil while Harry re-shelved the pots that had not been damaged too terribly. He took special care with a single fallen gaspodil, picking it up gingerly, feeling insurmountably guilty for injuring the charming little plant. 

“Oh, Neville. Merlin. Is there...a vase or..something?” Harry spun around in place looking for something in which to stick the broken stem.

“Yeah, I’ve got the perfect place for it.” Neville said, and blushing absolutely crimson, took the flower and tucked it behind Harry’s ear, “There, see? It looks...really cute.” After another one of those positively charmingly bashful smiles, he leaned it to haltingly press a kiss to his cheek. 

Harry suddenly knew exactly what the word ‘swoon’ meant, and with absolutely no good reason not to, he pulled Neville back down to kiss him soundly on the mouth.

\---

“Okay, question!” Ron declared, “When _the bloody hell_ did Neville get so much game?”

Hermione and Harry simply chuckled softly in response.

\---

One languid and delicious snogging session later, Neville and Harry both decided to move the gaspodil to his buttonhole before leaving the greenhouse. harry was exceptionally grateful for this decision, when upon exiting the greenhouse they found Neville’s gran on the back porch waving at them.

“Harry Potter!” she called, “Good to see you, young man. Tea?”

Which is how Harry found himself standing awkwardly in the middle of a cluttered drawing room, while Neville tried to clear him a seat as he was ordered around by his Gran.

“Move this over there. No not there!” She snapped, shooting a knowing glance at Harry that horrified him, “Have some sense, Neville! Don’t balance it!”

“I could help-” Harry began, reaching out to stablized a particularly precarious stack of what looked like broken bits from at least a dozen different ceramic dolls.

“Don’t be absurd!” Mrs. Longbottom crowed, “You’re a guest, and the boy-who-lived besides!”

Harry looked helplessly over at Neville, begging with his eyes to be forgiven for not being of any help, but Neville just smiled sadly and shook his head. No need to feel guilty, the look said, she’s just like this.

“Now, you’re with the youngest Weasley, aren’t you?” Mrs. Longbottom asked once Harry had settled onto the sagging and tattered love-seat across from her low-slung rocking chair.

“No.” Harry swallowed, reaching out to take a biscuit from the tray the distracted little house elf had wedged onto the large, circular coffee table covered in pencil cups and scrolls, “Ginny and I broke up ...a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh is that why she was over here caterwauling the other day?” Mrs. Longbottom asked Neville directly.

“Er, yes.” Neville said, rubbing the back of his head and not making eye contact with either of them.

“And now you’ve got him over here?” Neville’s gran raised her eyebrows in a conspiratorial fashion, “You’re her best friend, aren’t you? Supposed to be on her side, aren’t you?”

Harry startled slightly. He hadn’t known that Ginny had come to Neville after they’d broken up, let alone that the two of them were meant to be best mates.

“She knows that Harry and I are...friends, gran.” Neville said, looking pleadingly at Harry, “I’m not going to stop being friends with either of them.”

“Well, I supposed I shouldn’t be complaining. It’s been ages since Neville brought anyone but that blonde girl around for tea.” Mrs. Longbottom shook her head and all but glared at Neville, “Susan is so lovely, though. Even with those radish earrings.”

“That’s Luna, Gran.”

“Well, Susan’s blonde too.” Neville’s gran said conversationally, “You’re still seeing her, aren’t you? Susan?”

Harry turned to Neville with a playful smile. A sort of, your gran doesn’t know you’re gay, kind of look. But Neville wasn’t looking at him. Neville was leaning heavily over his own knees, staring resolutely at the ground. Slowly, Neville nodded.

\---

Both Hermione and Ron’s mouths dropped open. 

“Oh my goodness, that’s right.” Hermione whispered, bringing one of her hands to her mouth reflexively, “He brought her along to your...his birthday last year. I had no idea they were still...”

“Shit.” was all Ron had to say.

\---

When Neville finally did look up at Harry the word guilt might as well have been written across his forehead. 

“I really ought to be going.” Harry said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as devastated as he felt.

Neville walked Harry to the door, or more accurately, he cleared a path ahead of Harry so he could get to the door more easily. Neville tried to open the door, removed an unopened box of bedsheets that was wedged behind the door frame, and then opened it much wider than the house elf had managed earlier, forcing both of them to take a few steps back onto the narrow pathway to make room for it. The two of them did an odd little shuffle so that Harry could be in front and actually make it out of the house. Once he was on the other side of the doorframe, Neville stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“Harry.” Neville said keeping his voice low enough that his gran wouldn’t hear, “The thing with Susan...It’s not. She’s not. Well, I mean, she is, but it’s not like we’re...I don’t feel for her...It’s complicated.”

“Evidently.” Harry intoned dully.

Neville’s face crumpled, and Harry felt a momentary pang that he had caused that expression, before recollecting himself. He had every right to be upset that Neville had a girlfriend.

“Listen, Harry...I’ll talk to her.” Neville promised hopefully, “And then I’ll explain everything and...if I can’t. If I can’t break up with her, you’ll...understand, won’t you? We’ll still be friends like you said before, won’t we?”

“What is there left to explain, Neville?” Harry hissed, “ _Maybe_ you’ll break up with her? Well then, _maybe_ we’ll stay friends.”

“Harry, please try to understand! It’s-”

“Complicated.” Harry finished for him, “Yeah, you’ve said that.”

Without saying goodbye, Harry turned on his heel and apparated away. He kind of hoped Neville would come after him, but only the slight burn in his bottom followed him home.

\---

“So,” Harry cleared his throat of the sob that had been building there, “He’s best friends with my ex girlfriend and has a girlfriend of his own.”

“You didn’t know either of those things.”

“Yes I did, Hermione!” Harry almost yelled, “You just said so! He brought her along to the birthday party and introduced her as “Remember Susan? We’re dating”. Ginny use to go for drinks with him and Luna constantly. Ginny even told me once that she and Neville got to be _best friends_ during the war! But I didn’t remember any of it. Because it was never that important to me. He was never that important to me, I guess. I can’t believe I slept with him twice and never even spoke to him about anything important! Merlin, I’m a slag.” 

Ron guffawed. 

“No, you’re not, Harry.” Hermione said kindly, elbowing Ron. 

“Well, what would you call it then? If I hadn’t gone after him and seduced him-”

“Mate, are you serious?” Ron cut him off, giving him a look of incredible disbelief, “ _He_ seduced _you_.”

“What, no I-What?” Harry babbled incredulously.

“Honestly, Harry.” Hermione tutted, mouth twisted from trying not to smile, “He took you on the foreplay tour of his greenhouse.”

“I know, right?!” Ron grinned, “He could have been all ‘here’s the plant that smells like vinegar, and this is the one that prevents boners.’ Instead he’s all like ‘stroke the petals on this knob shaped flower while I whisper in your ear.’”

“Neville isn’t...like that.” Harry said softly. He bunched up his brows and stared into the carpet, thinking intently. _Was Neville like that?_

“And Neville would never sleep with his best friend’s ex.” Ron said, pointing emphatically, “Or cheat on someone he was dating.”

“We don’t know the whole story, Ron.” Hermione reprimanded weakly, “Maybe...it’s all a big misunderstanding, Harry. You don’t know.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Harry said dully, and took a large sip of his tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is kind of angsty, but I am planning a full story arch and this is just one part! Bear with me until the next update!
> 
> As always, let me know about typos, grammar errors, and weak sentence structure. I am here to learn.


End file.
